There's a feeling of despair, a feeling of self doubt,
Is there ever such a feeling as being cared for so much,
That one feels uncared for.
Loved ones push, and push, high pressure and all,
In the hopes of turning me from a coal into a diamond,
One wonders, do they forget,
Not all coal turns to diamond,
Some get crushed, turn into soot,
Trampled and discarded.
The diamonds, they shine on.
The soot, lay on the ground.
Many bemoan the loss.
Few ever asked it, what is it that it wanted to become.